


ain't it strange how love put things together

by nausicaa



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:19:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa/pseuds/nausicaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth suggests a calm, relaxing weekend vacation. </p><p>Somehow, things don't quite follow that plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ain't it strange how love put things together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dewinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dewinter/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, dewinter!

Their honeymoon coincides with spring break which, in retrospect, Seth should have expected. He's exhausted when they return, but he's barely in the door when Stefon is whisking him out of it again. "You didn't forget about the honeymoon afterparty," he says, sounding scandalized.

Seth isn't sure you can forget about something you never knew was a thing, but he just shakes his head and decides to go with it. 

The afterparty takes place at New York's hottest club, Aorta, which has everything, including artfully lit and displayed prints of Danny DeVito's instagrammed feet pics, myopic throat squawking (which is, apparently, "that thing where a preteen girl comes in and says 'WHERE ARE HIS GLASSES, HE CAN'T SEE WITHOUT HIS GLASSES,' and everyone ugly-cries"), and dirt from the grave of a hanged man. 

By the time they're home for real, Seth has all the energy of a snail, and says as much. "Oh no, Seth Meyers, you didn't drink the Deroceras Reticulatte, did you? Because that espresso was literally only for garden slugs," Stefon tells him, and Seth shakes his head.

"I don't think so," he says. "It's just been a busy few days." He needs a vacation from his vacation, and an idea occurs to him. "Let's go skiing in Vermont," he suggests. "Just for the weekend."

Stefon makes a face. "For the weekend?" he echoes. "Are you kidding me? We'd miss the grand opening of New York's hottest club, Phew!, on Saturday night."

"Does it have everything?" Seth asks. He already knows the answer. 

"Well, I don't know, Seth Meyers," Stefon says, not looking up from his phone. "It doesn't have Man Hatha-gay DJing -- not until next weekend, anyway -- but it has everything else."

"Who _is_ DJing?" Seth asks, interest piqued, and Stefon shrugs as if it's obvious.

"Nobody. For opening night, they're doing that thing where you put on sunglasses and take a hit of acid while Civil War reenacters mime the plot summaries of Mad Men episodes."

"That does sound like -- something," Seth says. "Vermont can wait."

"Are you kidding me?" Stefon says, holding up his phone. The corners of his lips are turning up slyly. "I just booked our tickets. Do you own skis? Because those asshole hobo-cops confiscated mine, like, weeks ago."

"But you'll miss Phew!," Seth protests. 

"So make it up to me," Stefon says, and that's something Seth is only too happy to do.

\---

He had thought, going into this, that there would never be a quiet moment with Stefon, and he'd accepted that. But they do exist, and they quickly become his favorite times, rare as they are. Sometimes he even makes them himself, creating quiet, stolen moments where none belong -- his personal favorite is that time he dragged Stefon into a utility closet at the WWE-themed drag show and kissed him senseless while a booming voice asked the audience to welcome Hulk Blowgan to the ring.

This time, though, is different than the others, Seth trying to keep his eyes on the road but they keep drifting over to Stefon, who's watching the Vermont landscape pass by as he taps his fingers along to the electrofox cover of the Die Hard soundtrack (which is, Seth has been told, _the greatest thing_ ). It feels strange to see him this still, and he worries -- not for the first time -- that the newness of their marriage, of their whole _relationship_ will wear off, and Stefon will get bored of him. 

"Stop thinking so loudly," Stefon says, and Seth jumps a little.

"I'm not --"

"You are so. I've been a little bit psychic ever since I drank the special punch at Nostra-dat-ass's birthday party, and you, Seth Meyers, are thinking so loudly that I could probably still hear you even if I _hadn't_ drank it."

There are a million things that Seth could say to that, but he settles with, "Okay." 

"Good."

\---

Seth has been skiing many times. In his experience, ski lodges contain, mainly, skiiers. But Stefon had been the one to book the tickets, so Seth doesn't know why he's so surprised to find, upon arriving, that the slopes are closed for the season, and that they were lucky to get a room at all because the hotel had been booked up -- Ireland's finest celebrity impersonator choral group, Liam Gleeson, is in town for a rap battle with their bitter rivals, the California Gaysins. Tickets, the bellhop informs them as he carries their bags to their room, have been sold out for months, but he won some extras in a radio contest, if they'd like to buy them off him for cheap?

Seth does, mostly because he's a sucker for the delighted face Stefon makes when Seth steps out of his comfort zone. But when they make the exchange, Stefon looks weirdly upset.

"Hey," Stefon says when the bellhop leaves, sixty bucks richer, with Seth clutching two alarmingly sweaty tickets in his hand. "I'm _so_ sorry, I really thought this was going to be, like, a normal weekend at a normal place. We don't have to go to the rap battle if you don't want to, and I bet if we kept driving we'd find somewhere you can actually ski."

Seth stares at him for a moment, takes in the way he's not meeting Seth's eyes and is kind of shifting his weight back and forth restlessly, and thinks, _I'm worried about being too boring for him, and he's worrying about not being boring_ enough.

"I hate skiing," he confesses, and Stefon meets his eyes then, looking shocked. "I thought I'd probably hate it less with you there. To be perfectly honest, I'd much rather go see the Craisins."

"That's _Gaysins_ , you uncultured swine," Stefon says, hiding a laugh behind his hand. "And I hate skiing, too. But I'd do anything you wanted me to."

That's -- frightening, honestly, to have that kind of power over another person. Seth feels exactly the same way about Stefon, though, so he's maybe a little less frightened than he should be. "You know I would too, right," he asks, because he's not sure Stefon does. 

"Ooh, I love it when you get all serious on me," Stefon says, but Seth persists, resting his hand against Stefon's cheek. 

"I would," he says again, and he can feel the warmth of Stefon's blush under his skin. 

"I know," Stefon says, and he sounds... not surprised, but awed, maybe. Seth is hit with a burst of fondness, and it must show on his face because Stefon kisses him, then, fast and a little desperate and messy and Seth _loves_ it, loves _him_ , loves every bump in the road that took them here because they're _here_ now, finally.

\---

They arrive at the rap battle unfashionably late and mildly dishevelled, and thanks to a confusing sign at the venue, they end up entering via the wrong door and walking right out onto the stage. It's such an entrance that the lead Gaysin incorporates a rhyme about them into one of his verses while he trashes a Liam Gleeson backup singer, who's weeping gently in the corner. Stefon's battery dies before the Gaysin finishes, and he shakes his head sadly, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "This is the greatest thing that's ever happened and no one's going to believe me when I tell them about it."

"The greatest?" Seth asks, and Stefon gives him a long, considering look.

"Second-greatest, I guess."

\---

Seth plays Coldplay on the trip home. Stefon shakes his head despairingly, but he's smiling again, that secret little smile that Seth is _thinks_ might mean he's totally enchanted by Seth, boringness and all.

But, since he could be wrong -- he certainly doesn't have psychic powers granted to him by special punch, after all -- he asks, "Do you want me to change it?"

"Don't you dare," Stefon says.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to D., who was an awesome source of encouragement while writing this, and who also came up with several of the highlights of New York's hottest clubs. <3


End file.
